


Flaws

by WickedGood



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Alternate Universe - Future, Amnesia, Angst, Brainwashing, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Eren/Marco friendship, Falling In Love Again, M/M, Nightmares, Reunions, Torture, Truth Serum, Violence, War, jean/mikasa friendship, more or less
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-18
Updated: 2017-02-26
Packaged: 2018-02-13 17:08:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2158563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WickedGood/pseuds/WickedGood
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Future AU. Marco was once a rebel, who was taken by the government for speaking out. Jean, who lost his best friend and soul mate, joined his former group to avenge him. It's been five years. One of the government's top soldiers has been captured by the resistance. He looks just like him, sounds just like him, and Jean wants to believe that he's the same person. But Marco doesn't remember a thing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Remembering Sunday

**Author's Note:**

> You have always worn your flaws upon your sleeve  
> And I have always buried them deep beneath the ground  
> Dig them up- Let's finish what we've started

 

_Remembering Sunday, he falls to his knees_

_They had breakfast together_

_But two eggs don't last_

_Like the feeling of what he needs_

   

 

        They had been seventeen when Marco disappeared.

        Jean was in denial for months. He couldn't have lost the one person who promised to always be by his side, could he?

        It wasn't like it was this big, dramatic thing either. One day he was there. The next he was gone. Simple as breathing.

        It was hard to breath for a while, with Marco gone.

        Jean didn't understand. Not for a few weeks. It took some time, but he thought he had pieced together what had happened.

 

        Both of them had lived in the city, Jean a little higher class than Marco, but that didn't matter to them. Jean didn't care about anything of that- not his class, not his government, nothing. He was pretty unattached to the world around him. All that mattered was his own safety, and, once they got close, Marco's.

        Marco noticed everything. He kept his eyes wide open, and he didn't unsee anything. It wasn't an uncommon piece of gossip that his parents resisted. Not part of the actual resistance, mind you, but they didn't totally accept Kronos either. Marco grew up in a household where free thinking was praised.

        Jean didn't realize how dangerous that was at the time.

        “Jean, there's this book you have to read. It was banned a few years ago, but it was amazing. Don't know why it was banned. Mom says it made people feel too much.” That was when they were younger, ten maybe.

        “Hell Marco, why do you have banned books?” He kicked a pebble lying in his path off into the gutter. It made a clanging sound when it hit the metal. “You're a goody-two shoes if I ever met one.”

        Marco blinked innocently, smiling wide. He had lost a tooth a day before, so he talked with an excited lisp. “It's my mom's favorite. She hid it when they searched the house. I'll sleep over at your place and you can read it.”

        They had sleepovers nearly every weekend, when both weren't sick or their parents weren't grouchy, so it wasn't abnormal when Marco came over to his house with his sleeping bag that Friday night. “I didn't tell my mom I took it,” he whispered, pulling out crinkled brown paper package, like they used to use in the olden days. “You read it, I'll play video games or something.”

        Jean loved it. He loved the look on Marco's face when he flipped the last page shut more, all bright eyes and scattered freckles. “I don't get why it was banned, that was really good,”

        “I know, right? The government does a lot of things that don't make much sense.”

 

        That phrase seemed to pop up more as they got older, carry more meaning. Marco's eyes would harden when he said it, and Jean didn't like that. Marco was his sunshine, sunshine wasn't supposed to be so cold.

        “Did you know,” they were fifteen now, “they're cracking down on LGBT+s?”

        “Weren't they already?” Jean hated it when Marco talked political. All Jean needed was a nice apartment in a safe neighborhood, with Marco as his roommate. He would fantasize about it some days, the two of them living together. Marco would cook breakfast when the sun was just beginning to show it's face, and Jean would grumble but he wouldn't really mind. He was a morning person when Marco was involved. He liked the idea of waking up to his ruffled bedhead, the smell of frying eggs. Maybe Marco would be wearing an apron, and Jean would tease him for it, tug on the little ribbons that held it to his waist.

        “Yeah, but like, harder than before. Ymir got questioned a few days ago, for being too close to Krista. She wouldn't take it, of course. I heard she's on the run.”

        “So what?”

        “Jean, you do know I'm gay, right?”

        He said it like it was simple. Normal. Important. “Shit, no I didn't. Don't say that out loud Marco, I don't want you getting in trouble.”

        It didn't come up again. But Jean thought about it a lot. Once that was in the open, he started to think. What was it Marco saw in other men? What did he see in _him?_ Suddenly, his little dream of them living together seemed dangerous, forbidden.

        But it sounded even sweeter.

        Little details began to pop into his head. Maybe Jean would ruffle Marco's hair teasingly, running his hands through the soft curls. Maybe Marco would be shirtless, wearing nothing but his boxers when he cooked. Maybe they would share a bed, and cuddle for warmth on winter nights, even summer when it was too hot for clothes. Maybe they would be naked, sweating, lazily kissing and their legs tangled up and Marco would be moaning softly into his mouth, Jean's tongue moving to work on his neck.

 

        “I found a good group to join,” Marco was in his first and last resistance group when they were sixteen. He was growing bolder with it, and held Jean's hand when they were alone. Dragged his eyes away from his lips to his eyes again, still smiling like he knew something Jean didn't. It made Jean lose himself for a few moments, forget about the rules.

        The few moments turned into minutes, hours. Jean knew that he loved Marco. He was starting to understand why Marco would want to resist. Jean wanted to flaunt his boyfriend around outside, not keep their feelings hidden in a dark room in the dead of night.

 

        “Jean, you know I love you, right?”

        “What's this about?” Of course Jean knew it, but walking in the park in the middle of the afternoon in broad daylight with other citizens in earshot was no place to say so.

        “I just wanted you to know. And I'll never leave you. Ever.”

 

        A week later, he was gone, a few days after Marco's birthday. It was like he knew something would happen. Or maybe he jinxed it. Jean didn't like either idea.

        Someone must have found out about the group he joined. Overheard his confession, maybe. There were so many things that could have happened, and Jean felt empty.

        He searched his room. Stayed at the Bott place for a couple days. Marco's parents didn't care. They were too heartbroken to protest.

 

        Jean found the number of one of the resistance groups members lodged underneath the bed frame, a tiny furling piece of paper. He took a deep breath and dialed.

        “Yeah, what do you want?”

        “I'm Marco's... friend,”

        “That supposed to mean something to me?”

        “He's gone. The Titans took him, I'm sure of it.”

        A pause. “Shit.”

        “No kidding.”

        “What do you know?”

        “Not much. But I want in.”

        “...You wouldn't happen to be Jean Kirstein, would you?”

        “What of it?”

        “Meet me at the rundown cafe on Twenty First Street. Midnight tomorrow. We'll talk.”

 

        Turns out his name was Eren Yeager. Annoying as he was, Jean couldn't find it in himself to hate him. Because Marco knew him, Marco was friends with him. And Eren knew what he was talking about, when it came to resistance.

        “If you're serious about joining us and it's not just the grief talking, meet me here again Saturday. I'll bring a few friends for a quick interview. If you're lying...” Eren left it at that, his blue eyes narrowed as he finished the last of his coffee, throwing a few coins down on the table.

        Jean had said it on a whim, grasping at straws to somehow get back to Marco. But everyone told him that he was dead. And that was something Jean couldn't just accept without doing _something_. How could they just take away someone like Marco, so innocent and pure? Someone so sweet and kind, who kissed him breathless? Who could kill someone like him, in cold blood? Marco didn't do anything wrong. He followed his beliefs, the ones that said you could marry who you want and read what you want and think and _say_  what you want and go outside the walls of the city.

 

        The interview went well enough. Armin was nice, and Levi looked like he wanted to beat him up and chuck his unconscious body in the nearby river, but was holding back because of orders. Mikasa just stared at him coldly. All three agreed that Jean could join that Survey Corps, what they called themselves. Jean was only somewhat surprised to learn they were the biggest and most feared resistance group in the city. Marco didn't fuck around.

        “Marco was a good person. He talked about you a lot. He really loved you,” Armin told him before he and the others left.

        Jean's heart ached, and he cried that night, the first time since Marco was taken. It was the past tense that got to him.

 

        He moved out to the Survey Corps headquarters permanently a year later. He was a good solider, and believed in the cause. He brought the copy of Catcher in the Rye, the book Marco made him read all those years ago, with him. Armin seemed to appreciate that. Eren looked pleased, but called him a nerd anyway.

 

        Four years passed. Jean healed, but he thought about Marco everyday.

 

        It was a sunny day in September when Armin burst into his room, teary eyed and panicked. “J-Jean...” He was panting hard. He must have run there, despite Armin's weak stamina. “We captured a h-high ranking government solider.”

        “Fuck yeah!” Jean leaped to his feet, a shit-eating grin on his face. “Best news I've heard all month! What're we gonna do with 'em? Let Hanji go nuts?”

        “N-No Jean, I don't, I don't think you're going to want that,”

        “What do you mean?”

        “Just come with me. It's important.”

        It wasn't like Armin to act like that. Jean sobered up and followed him to the prison cells in the basement of the building.

        The solider was frowning, analyzing the white room from his spot chained to the wall, tense, like he was about to spring away at any moment. There were bruises on his face, loud and angry, but Jean knew that the same freckles would be there, under the dirt and blood.

        “See what I mean?” Armin whispered, but Jean barely heard him.

        Because Marco, _his_ Marco, the one who was killed by the government five years ago was alive and allegedly working for everything he had wanted to fix.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, I've been wanting to start this AU for a while now. Thanks for reading it, it means a lot to me ^^
> 
> Some things seem confusing now (my beta, my lovely sibling theghostofvasesmashed on Tumblr, pointed out that I don't explain who Kronos is or what the Titans are in this universe) but it will all be revealed, the next chapter should begin to clear that up just a bit ^^
> 
> Let me know what you think here or at my Tumblr ihaveapencilbehindmyear ~


	2. Angel With a Shotgun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marco, apparently alive and working for the government, has been captured by the resistance. Trapped, there's not much more he can do other than recall exactly how he got into this mess.

 

_I'm an angel with a shotgun,_

_Fighting 'til the war's won,_

_I_ _don't care if heaven won't take me back_

 

 

        Getting captured wasn't part of the plan, naturally.

        Granted, Marco wasn't supposed to be there anyway.

        If he allowed himself to show weakness, Marco would be sighing in frustration, leaning limply against the wall in defeat.

        His nose hurt more than anything. One of the guys who caught him had punched him there hard, even after he was down and handcuffed, not stopping until his face was good and bloodied. What else should he have expected from rebel filth? “That's what you get for leaving us!” he had shouted, blue eyes wild and angry, and he kicked him in the side for good measure. “That's for being one of _them!_ ”

        Marco, personally, didn't know what he meant by the first statement, but couldn't bring himself to care. That rebel had seemed particularly _unhinged_. It was clear that the nonsense he was spouting meant nothing. He could only be glad that Reiner had responded to their call for backup, and he was gentle with him when he carried him to the base, even if he looked at him with disgust. Marco, through his blurred vision, could see the concern in his eyes, even if it was there only for a moment.

        At least he knew he was settling in well.

 

        Marco met Reiner back in boot camp. The two of them, along with Reiner's other friends Bertolt and Annie, hit it off nicely. Marco easily became a part of their little group. The four of them were all in the top of their class, and easily rose through the ranks together once they became official soldiers of Kronos. In all missions given to one, the other three would automatically go, even if they hadn't been assigned to it. Their superiors didn't mind. They worked well together, and their small force was practically unstoppable.

        This mission was for Annie, Reiner, and Bert.

 

        “Marco Bott.”

        “Sir.”

        “You, of course, know and follow our rules.”

        “Without a doubt, sir.”

        “Well, here's another one for you- you are not to go on the mission assigned to Annie Leonhart, Reiner Braun, and Bertolt Hoover.”

        “Sir?”

        “This is forbidden to you. You are not to follow them to the resistance headquarters, do you understand?”

        “Yes sir.”

 

        Marco never disobeyed the rules. Never. He served Kronos in any and all ways. It was his duty as a citizen, and his honor as a soldier. King Kronos was his great leader, the high ruler of the city, the conqueror of the Titans.

        So no, Marco didn't follow them to the resistance headquarters.

        He waited months.

        Then, on one of his rare days off, Marco decided to carefully patrol the area on the edge of rebel territory. He missed his friends, and just seeing figures on the edge of his vision that looked like them was enough to satisfy his concern for their safety. Besides, it wasn't like Marco would get caught.

 

        It was three against one.

        The fight didn't start right away. At first, the trio that had found him were frozen stiff. One guy fell to his knees, sobbing quietly. New trainees, Marco guessed. They wouldn't even challenge him. Marco could threaten them into not to say anything and he would run, long gone before they even considering chasing after him.

        “Marco-”

        The dark-haired girl in the front said it. Calm, but Marco noticed her eyes widen. He had no idea where anyone from around here could pick up on his name- Bert, who got fidgety under pressure, didn't share anything by accident, did he?- but that didn't matter. All that he needed to do was get out of there. He couldn't even drag them away with him, for fear of someone asking where he had gotten the catch.

_I didn't break the rules. I followed Kronos's will. I did not follow Annie Leonhart, Reiner Braun, and Bertolt Hoover to the resistance headquarters. I am a good soldier. It is my honor and duty to serve._

        “I am a soldier of Kronos, the conqueror of the Titans and bringer of order- you have no right to speak my name, however it is you came across it.” Marco casually pulled out his gun, not worried enough to change the mode from 'stun' to 'kill', training it on the woman who had spoken. She was clearly in charge, so he needed to keep an eye on her. She tensed, surprisingly, at his words, not the weapon. Marco wasn't going to complain, however. Whatever struck fear into her heart was fine with him.

        “What the _fuck_ is going on. Armin, that can't be Marco.”

        “I said you have no right to speak my name, rebel scum,” Marco glared at the man who was still standing, visibly shaking with what he guessed was rage.

        The third man ignored Marco's command, and spoke directly to his comrade, “It is though, I'm sure of it. But...” His voice wavered as he tried to collect himself. There were still tears rolling down his cheeks. “He doesn't remember us, I don't think.” Marco recognized the tone of someone analyzing a situation. If he wasn't so emotionally compromised, Marco would have aimed his second gun at him- intelligence in the wrong places was dangerous. “I don't think he remembers us.” Something seemed to click, making Marco uneasy. “Or anything. You-” the man, Armin, struggled to stand up for a moment, “You follow Kronos?”

        Marco snorted. “We are not in a proper setting for questioning, nor is your question even worth answering. I believe it is very obvious where my loyalties lie.” His fingers itched to grab the other gun resting on his hip. He hadn't brought his usual weapons today. Overconfidence was to blame. Never again would Marco travel light.

        “But why?”

        “It is my honor and duty to serve.”

        Armin studied him. “That's not the mindset of a soldier of high rank. That's not even a mindset of the weakest Cadette.” he commented, glancing at the other two. “That's what civilians assume soldiers say.”

        Marco scowled at him, wondering why the three didn't attack or run or _something_. Rebel filth was trying to confuse him. He refused to play into their little game, but words slipped out of his mouth, almost unconsciously. “I am a soldier of King Kronos's army, the creator the walls, protector of the people. I live to serve, and those opposed don't deserve to be in the mere shadow of Sina, but my King is merciful, and all will turn back to him in due time, or may the Titan's wrath fall upon them! It is my honor and duty to serve!”

        Armin's eyes widened. “G-Guys, I think he's been-”

        “I've had enough of this soldier bullshit!” the unnamed man interrupted with a growl, fists clenched and eyes blazing. “I don't know what happened to our Marco, but I do know I don't like this new one!”

        “You're so dramatic, Eren.” the woman sighed, but she didn't disagree, Marco noted. “What do we do Armin?”

        “W-Well...”

        Marco decided he was fed up with waiting.

        Apparently, so did Eren.

        It was a dumb move, on Eren's part. Simply rushing at a highly trained man with a gun was a bad idea. He was paralyzed in an instant, as soon as he made a move towards him. He fell to the ground with a grunt, and Marco sighed in regret. “It should've been on kill. You're particularly annoying.”

        “Eren!” Armin yelped, and Marco presumed he went to go aid his friend. He couldn't see anything else, after that. He had underestimated the woman, who moved so fast he didn't have time to shoot, and was strong enough to pin him down with no problem, despite Marco's strength.

        “You shouldn't have done that, Marco,” she said coldly while disarming him. Marco stayed silent as she pulled handcuffs out of her pockets and set them on his wrists with a little _click_. They weren't new trainees, after all. Maybe they were as high a rank as he, in their own little army. “Let's alert the others and take him in. How's Eren doing?” Mikasa turned to look at the pair.

        “Already recovered, but he's pretty mad-”

        Eren shoved Mikasa aside, and proceeded to attempt to break Marco's nose.

 

        Marco didn't know how Eren had been able to break through his paralysis so quickly.

        But the bigger mystery was how they knew his name.

        He went back to glaring out the small window of his cell. He could see the guards from there. They didn't look like much, just a bald man and a red head talking quietly, but Marco had learned his lesson about rebels. As stupid as they were for not following Kronos, they were powerful.

        Which made it all the more important to get rid of them all.

        Rebels were less than dirt. They were nothing but loose canons that needed to be controlled, before the King got hurt.

        It was a messy task, but Marco was more than happy to do it. That was what he had trained for his whole life, after all. When he was little, his parents were slightly problematic citizens. Marco learned from them how doubt was creeping into the population, dark and poisonous, and he was determined to find a cure for it.

        That's why he had joined the army, and after all, it was his honor and duty to serve.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For not being out for very long, I sure have gotten a few great responses! Thanks everyone~  
> Comments? Questions? Don't be afraid to critique or talk to me, here or on Tumblr (ihaveapencilbehindmyear)!


	3. How To Save A Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jean's world is crashing down, and if he wants to save Marco, he's first going to have to try and get his friends to see that their Marco- his Marco- is still locked somewhere inside.

_He will admit to everything_

_Or he'll say he's just not the same_

_And you'll begin to wonder why you came_

 

        The world stopped spinning for a moment as Jean stared at Marco, horrified but still staring at the sight of his lover- former lover? Jean had no idea, because what do you call your dead best friend who's suddenly alive and on the wrong side of the war?- chained to a wall and bloodied and very much wearing a Kronos issued army uniform.

        Once Armin was sure he saw enough, he guided Jean away from the window because he couldn't move.

        He wasn't sure whether to scream or cry, maybe both, but all that came out was a strangled mumble. “Marco...” And it was like the wound that had formed into a scar when he finally accepted that Marco was gone was sliced open again, salt pouring into it with a harsh little sizzle.

        He was more muscular then before. He still looked good, even with the messy injuries, except for the way he scanned the room. Marco would have never assessed anything like that. He was smart, yes, but his gaze was never so calculated, so cold, so hateful. Hate wasn't a word that you associated with Marco Bott. Bitter at the most, but never hateful. He was sweet, kind, and didn't let the world totally take his innocence, even after it seemed that that word no longer had a place in their new world.

        “I don't... I don't understand,” Jean managed. “He disappeared. I thought he was...”

        “So did I.” Armin said grimly.

 

        Erwin was at for the day, at a resistance meeting. While Survey Corps was the biggest and most powerful group, there were other smaller ones scattered about the edge of the city, a few spies in the Military Police, and a handful of radicals that acted on their own but talked strategies with the others. Hanji was with him, so that left Levi in charge.

        The lance corporal was lounging on a couch, scowling as always. His cup of tea, still steaming, seemed to be forgotten as Mikasa finished giving the report of the incident. Jean caught the last of it as Armin escorted him into the room, where he slouched into a nearby chair, still dazed.

        _Marco... What happened to you?_

        “...The prisoner is currently in cell number seven, guarded by Connie and Sasha for the time being.” Mikasa concluded, Jean only half paying attention. He hated the way she said 'prisoner'. It was more than that, they all knew it. It was Marco Bott trapped in that cell.

        The room was very quiet for what seemed like forever. Eren, who was staring out the window, finally asked in a low voice, “What are we going to do with him?” No one was saying Marco's name. Like they were afraid to associate with him. Like he was a taboo.

        “It's obvious, isn't it?” Levi sighed, taking a sip of his tea. “We're going to have to kill him.”

        Jean was as scared as Levi as the next guy. No one, _no one_ wanted to get on the short yet deadly corporal’s bad side. But he what he had suggested was completely unacceptable, and Jean would not stand for it. He leaped to his feet, scaring the shit out of Armin, who was still fidgeting behind him, and growled, “Don't you dare touch my Marco-!”

        Eren's head whipped around to glare at him, and interrupted like the bastard he was. “He's not _your_ Marco, you weren't the only one he was close too, you know!” His eyes flashed, and he shook off Armin's hand as the blonde rushed over to try and calm him down. “He was our friend too! And he's not _your_ Marco anymore anyway, you do realize that? That,” he waved his hands wildly, gesturing in the general direction of where the cell was, “is not Marco.”

        Jean's voice took on a more pleading tone, needing to get someone, _anyone_ , on his side. He didn't know how close Eren and Marco were, he had never even thought about it until then, but if they had the even the smallest of friendships, Eren would understand. “But he is Eren, I'd know him anywhere, you think I don't know my own-?”

        He was half glad that Eren cut him off again, because he still didn't have a good term for whatever they were now. “He shot me Jean. You should have seen the look in his eyes. You know what he said to me? “It should have been set to kill.” Our Marco wasn't a killer. He's not Marco.” Eren's eyes were hard, the darkest Jean had ever seen them, and if he wasn't so focused on trying to save Marco's life, he would have shivered.

        “But we can't just _kill_ him! I don't know what happened to him in the past five years, but I know we can figure it out and fix it! _I can't lose him again Eren-_ ”

        “You don't seem to understand. You're a good solider Jean, we have no choice here! He's a _threat_ , he's one of _them_ , he's a _Titan_! I swore to take them all out-”

        “Yeah, he's a Titan, just like you, right? I don't see you going all Kamikaze on us-”

        “That's enough. Both of you.” It must have been the idea of Eren dying, because Mikasa seemed shaken. “Look, Armin had an idea, and I think you should hear him out before making any rash decisions, okay?” Jean wasn't sure who the comment was aimed at, but he shut up and waited for Armin to enlighten them.

        Armin, who was tearing up again from the two's shouting match, cleared his throat, and tried not to look at Eren or Jean as he addressed Levi. “O-Okay, so, we all know Marco was...” His voice wavered, and Mikasa shot him a reassuring glance. “was one of us, and I don't think any of us want to believe that he willingly joined Kronos's army.”

        Jean winced at the statement, but stayed silent, hoping Armin would say something genius that would change Marco's current fate.

        “I talked to him in the field, and just from the way he spoke, it sounded fake. He kept saying things like it was his 'honor and duty to serve', almost against his will. I think that he was captured five years ago and programmed somehow to be a solider for Kronos. I don't know why they would specifically want him, as talented as he was, but I don't think that there's any other explanation. He had no reaction whatsoever to us- even if he is a traitor, he would still recognize us and respond. As far as I'm concerned, it's a reasonable explanation- If Hanji can make truth serums, why can't they, with all their technology and man power find a way to mess with memories? And haven't we been getting reports of things like this for the past few years? It's at least worth looking into- and either way, he's still an enemy solider that we can get information out of, if we play our cards right,” He took a deep breath at the end of his monologue, and bit his lip, looking for approval.

        Jean tried not to look too desperate. What Armin said made sense to him, but in his current state, he would believe anything that painted Marco in the right light. What really mattered was what Levi thought of it.

        The man sighed, and looked disgustedly at his tea cup for a moment, before glaring at them. “I don't want Eren anywhere _near_ that cell, do you understand? Oi, don't argue with me, you shitty brat, you and I both know you won't be able to stay calm, and you'll fuck everything up. As for you Jean, I'm gonna need you for something, if you can keep your head fucking clear. Got it?”

        If Jean wasn't promising to keep his emotions in check, he would have wept. Marco would live. He would live, and there was a chance Jean could get him back. He hoped Levi hadn't noticed the tremor in his voice when he agreed.

 

        Jean could look and listen, but he couldn't directly interact with Marco. He didn't complain, even when Levi asked Sasha to do the interviewing while he watched from the outside with the lance corporal and Connie.

        “Levi, you can't be serious! I don't think I can do this, he was my friend! I trusted him with my life, how am I supposed to go in there and interview him, truth serum or not?!” Sasha was particularly distressed by this proposition. Unlike Jean, there wasn't a fire desperately burning with the desire to talk to Marco, even in this state, kindling in her bones.

        Levi sighed. “Mikasa will be in there with you. You'll be fine. The reason I picked you is that we need someone who was close to him to talk to him, so see how much of his former self is left, before and after the truth serum, and I trust you to do it more than Kirstein over here.” He jerked a thumb at the young soldier, who flushed slightly. “He'll be strictly observing. I'm trusting you to not let your former friendship with the prisoner cloud your judgment. Think you can do that?”

        She looked like she was going to protest, but Connie put his hand on her arm. “Sas, I know you can do this. This is the best way to help him now,” he said quietly.

        Sasha sniffled once then nodded. “I-I'll do what I can. M-Mikasa, you ready?”

 

 

        The window was too small to get a good view. It was even worse when Levi was right there next to him, ready to kick him out if he got too emotional. Jean dug his fingernails into his palm every time he felt a sob coming. He was surprised his hands didn't bleed. From the moment Sasha walked in Jean was upset.

        “I'm not going to tell you bitches of the rebellion anything, so you can just leave now.” Marco spat, only to have it land in between his shoes. “Fuck off.”

        Sasha hid her wince well. “We don't want anything like that. We're more interested in your background. Where did you come from, Marco?”

        He scowled. “I demand to know how you discovered my identity.”

        “That's not important,” Sasha waved it off. “Mikasa, I think we should skip to Plan B.”

        It was a little quick, but Mikasa nodded silently, ignoring Marco's loud protests. It took all of Jean's willpower not to march in there and stop Mikasa from pulling out the truth serum syringe from her bag and stabbing him in the arm with it.

        Marco cried out, then bit his lip stubbornly, determined not to let anymore weakness show. Armin had warned them at that the sting would hurt, even to a seasoned solider trained to endure.

        “Sorry Marco,” Sasha said once his eyes closed. “How long did Levi say the effects would last?”

        “An hour, then he would be knocked out for a while. It should be setting in any minute now.” Mikasa slipped the now empty syringe back into into her bag, then tightened the signature red scarf around her neck.

        Sasha wrung her hands. “I don't know if it's going to work.”

        Mikasa sighed, then glanced over at Marco, who started to groan softly. “O-Ouch...”

        It was just like how he used to wake up from falling asleep on Jean's arm. Blinking blurrily, licking his chapped lips. A yawn, making his freckles stretch out pleasantly. “My nose...”

        “How are you feeling?”

        “Ouch...” He didn't appear to hear. Jean didn't dare let himself start whispering prayers under his breath. Marco could turn hostile any minute now.

        Sasha crouched down. “Hey, do you think you're up for a few questions? We can take care of your nose as soon as you're asleep again, I promise.”

        Marco- his eyes had softened, brightened, and Jean felt his heart race like it did five years ago- did his best to nod. “Thank you... I'd be happy to help with anything you need. What sort of questions, miss?”

 

        There were questions. There were answers. There were sleepy yawns, a few winces, and tears. But Jean saw none of it. The second the prisoner's eyes brightened, Jean turned to Levi and simply let his thoughts fall out of his mouth in a hushed whisper of relief and love.

        “That's him. That's my Marco.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, it's sure been a while, hasn't it?  
> Is it senior year? Yes. Are my finals over? No. Aren't I supposed to be working on a novel? Yes again.  
> But I love these two dorks, and sometimes, I just need to write something else to clear my head. Is this going to update fast? No. Do I have everything planned out though? Yes. Is there a (hopefully) wild ride ahead? Yes.  
> So I'll keep writing if you keep reading. Thank you, and I'll do my best to get some summer chapters out there.


	4. Miss Missing You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marco didn't know a lot, back then. He couldn't tell you anything important, like who the man in the window is, or why he wakes up screaming. Or maybe they're not important at all, and he's just loosing his mind.

 

_I will sing to you every day_

_If it will take away the pain_

_Oh and I heard you got it, got it so bad_

_'Cause I am the best you'll never have_

 

__

        They came in the morning, when he was still on the cusp of dreaming. They gave him syringes when he was still trying to wipe the sleep out of his eyes, and it hurt, but not as much as his head did. Marco was sure it was a drug, because after the shot, it wasn't anything but fog in his head, shifting, pulsing colors rolling in his mind's eye. He was only half aware of what they were talking about most of the time; his own responses, even less.

        When he managed to pull himself away from the blinding spell of the fog, all he could do was observe his surroundings. Always the same cell, different people. He took careful note of them. The redhead, the girl with the red scarf, there was the skinny bald guy, a stammering blonde boy, and they all seemed not quite familiar. As if they were in his dreams.

        Then there was a man.

        He stood in the window, watching. He didn't look like the others. The others, they were cautious and their eyes were always so wide with something that looked like pain. His crackled like fire, bright and hopeful and calling to him.

        Then he would just walk away, and Marco, almost unaware of it, would strain against his chains, trying to reach him. It would normally use up the last of his strength for the day. Then one of the others would come in with food, and at night, when everything started to go dark, something would bubble up in his stomach, eating away at him. He would gasp for breath, knowing it would consume him. He felt burning, unnatural and raw, and he tried to scream, but there was no one there, and there was nothing left in him to fight it. His vision faded away, and Marco wasn't sure if it was where he fell asleep or not.

 

        Sleep wasn't a comfort. The burning just grew and grew. He felt sharp, stinging pain in every one of his freckles it felt like, and straps wrapped around his limbs and something heavy on his head. He cried out, he could feel himself doing it, but he couldn't hear anything at first, just a buzzing, buzzing, buzzing. It hummed and rang and swelled in his ears, and sometimes, he could hear whispers just beyond it. He didn't remember what they are when he woke up, but Marco thought they were still there, waiting in the back of his head, for him to drop his guard. Most of the time his eyes were open, but all he could see was bright, flashing light, different colors, different images, someone walking around him, circling.

        That night, the images were pictures of different people, just their faces. At first, they were smiling, but then there was a siren wailing, gunshots going off, big, bad, scary noises, and the smiles dripped away into bloody, evil grins. A brunette guy with blue eyes, a pretty black haired girl, they all started to fade into each other into a horrible, tangled mess. Marco could have sworn there was a voice saying, “That's right, feel the hatred in your bones.”

        Then there was a boy.

        He had a weird undercut and even when the smile was supposed to look evil, Marco could feel his heart stop.

        He screeched.

        He woke up.

        The man was outside the window.

        Marco, panting, in tears, stared at him, waiting for the routine exit and for himself to unconsciously react. He thought of the bloody smiles and winced, face wet.

        The man looked around. Then, almost silently, opened the door.

        Now that he was there, Marco shrank away, afraid what was next. He heard someone say, _This man is evil. You hate him, remember Marco? He works against you to take down everything you stand for._

        Marco almost screamed for a second time. _Who are you? What do you know that I don't?!_

        “Tilt your head back and open your mouth.”

        Marco blinked, back in reality, but very confused.

        The man blushed, and Marco could feel two kinds of fire building up in his gut. “Please.” he added.

        Every drop of blood in his body boiled when Marco obeyed. His eyes closed again, tears streaming. He shivered.

        Cool, healing water trickled down his throat. The buzzing in his ears stopped for a moment, and Marco opened his eyes again, closing his mouth when he had enough. The man tried to pull away in time, but some water splashed onto his chin.

_Refreshing._ The word flickered across his mind.

        “Need any more?”

        Marco tilted, opened his mouth again. The tepid water he got with meals wasn't anything close to what the man was doing for him.

        The man smiled. It was kind, and sparkled with something bright. Marco could see him trying to get the words in his head out through his mouth. “I'm...”

        Marco stared at him, feeling tension in the air. It didn't feel right to speak yet.

        “Sorry, I didn't bring anything else.” The man's smile turned pained.

        Marco opened his mouth, but no sound came out. What more could he need? _  
_

        "Tissues or bandages I mean. Random shit." he added, looking awkward. "I mean, I didn't think you'd need them to be honest."

        His nose had been taken care of a few days ago, but the bandages did need changing. They were stiff and brown with dried blood, but they held strong in place, and it didn't hurt as much anymore. As far as tissues went, Marco wasn't sure if he meant because of the water on his chin, or the tears rolling down his cheek.

        He watched the man's fingers twitch, as if trying to reach out to him, but not quite letting himself. Marco waited, wondering if he would, curious about what his touch might feel like, just a brush of skin on skin. He wondered if it felt as warm as his voice, as easy to fall into a his eyes.

        Just as quickly as Marco thought it, something pushed it away, and pain jolted through his body, and the voice inside his head shouted,  _Wrong! Those feelings are WRONG!_

        More tears traced his cheek, racing down his face. Marco sniffed, and the man winced, both of them knowing they couldn't fix it yet.

        “I...”

        It was the man's turn to wait. His face shifted to red, and Marco wondered what was going through his mind.

        “It's nothing.”

        “It didn't sound like nothing.”

        “What?” Talking was suddenly easy again, and not in the drug induced high like it was with the others.

        “You...” The man glanced away, screwing the cap back on the water bottle tightly. “You were screaming. Even before you woke up.”

        Maybe that's why his throat had ached. Marco looked hopefully at the water.

        The man unscrewed it again, and Marco watched his face turn from fire into stone. It made his chest ache this time. He ignored it for the moment and drank.

        “Screaming?” he finally answered, once he felt he had a grip on himself again.

        “Screaming.”

        “What... What did I say?”

        “Don't you remember?”

_You hate him, remember Marco?_

        “I think there's a lot of things I don't remember.”

        Marco could have sworn that now the man's eyes were pricking with tears. “One thing at a time buddy, I don't have all the answers.” But something was lurking behind his forced smile. His voice had tripped over the sentence.

        “What did I say?”

        The man slowly crouched down, bringing himself to Marco's level. For a tense moment, they stared at each other, each searching for something.

        “At first it was just no, please don't. Things like that. You were begging, crying out in pain. Then you were angry. 'Leave them out of this!' Then,” he took a shuddering breath. “Then you were whimpering please again, then it was just, 'Feel the hatred in your bones.' for a while. But... More towards, the end, before you woke up, you called out for someone.”

        He was leaving something out. Marco struggled against his restraints again, not trying to get free, just closer to the man. “Who was it?” They both knew it was important, even if Marco didn't know why. He could already hear the voice in his head repeating what the man had said, _Feel the hatred in your bones_ , and Marco knew that the name could quell it.

        The man paused.

        They both were tearing up. Marco didn't understand why. “Please. Please, I need to know.”

        The man opened his mouth.

        Then someone came past the window. A tall man, and hunched over, looking nervous. Marco felt something inside him stirring, but it didn't feel natural. The man outside turned to look at him, and Marco started to shake.

        He turned and ran back where he came from.

        The man inside with him closed his mouth.

        Marco shook his head violently, feeling the burning return to lick at his body, dragging him down. “Please!” he choked. “Who was he? Who was he?” he was babbling now, loosing control. _“Who am I?"_

        After that, Marco couldn't hear what he was saying. Too much buzzing in his head.

        The man stood. He tried to speak over him, but Marco was screaming again. He didn't know if he was begging for the name, or for freedom, or help, or just to make it stop. Maybe he was saying what the voice was repeating in his head, or maybe he was crying out the name he needed. It was in his head, just hidden under all the terrible things that were in there.

        Why was that?

        The man left.

_Feel the hatred in your bones._

 

        Once again, Marco wasn't sure if he had fallen asleep or not. After the man had left, he couldn't find it in him to fight against the voice in his head. It seemed to chase every train of thought like the ghost of a bandit. It spoke so loud sometimes Marco couldn't even hear his own thoughts. It would grow so big Marco would be pushed into his own back of his head, and those were his darkest hours.  _What am I even doing here?_ he would ask himself, referring to both the cell and his own head.  _It doesn't even feel like I belong here sometimes._

_Listen to me Marco. I'm just here to help you collect your scattered thoughts. All you have to do is trust me, and I can make it all stop._

        And just like that his head was quiet. Marco floated, more confused than happy, more cautious than relaxed, but it was quiet, and he felt the pain in his head lessen.

        "What do you think Erwin?"

        Marco jerked awake. A short man, one he had seen before, glaring in the window alongside the kind one who had brought him water but no answers earlier, stood, while a strong looking blonde knelt in front of him, eyebrows drawn down low as he watched him, giving Marco an uneasy feeling in his gut.

        "Can... Can I help you sirs?"

        The short one looked taken aback, but the blonde one didn't move, like a statue. "Marco Bodt." he said.

        "That's me," he responded, not very confidently.

        "Could you tell me where you grew up?"

        Marco blinked, not sure why he had to answer it, but not wanting to turn him away. "Umm..."

_Trost, higher class, your parents were fools who tried to turn you to rebellion. You denied their delusions and turned them in, earning you praise from-_

_That doesn't sound right._ Marco interrupted.

_What did I say about trusting me Marco?_ the voice said darkly, and pain flooded his body, making him yelp.

        "Oi, what's your-"

        "A moment please, Levi." The blonde stopped him while Marco's eyes readjusted. He spaced out when the voice talked to him, and he wasn't sure where he went. "Do you know?" The blonde asked patiently.

        Marco winced. "I don't think so sir."

        He nodded. "Levi, the key."

        Levi narrowed his eyes. "What are you thinking Erwin?" he asked suspiciously, but handed him a small black key anyway.

        "I think we need to take more drastic measures," he said, unlocking Marco's chains.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello readers, new and old. I think it's appropriate to start off a new chapter in my life with a new chapter for the story.  
> I'm settling into college well, and I'm finding time to write again. I can't wait for all of you to join me on this journey! Who knows how my writing will change, but I'll always have these two dorks to keep me company.  
> Now, this chapter wasn't betaed. If anyone is interested in helping me out with that, it would mean a lot! Just message me on Tumblr at ihaveapencilbehindmyear. Or you could talk to me about the fic in general. Tell me what you think! I'd love to get to know all of you!  
> Thanks for reading! ^^


	5. Crashing of Planets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jean wasn't just going to sit there while Marco was alone back in Cell Seven. He may not have had a plan, but he did have information and determination, and really, isn't that just as good?

 

 

_I woke up to find out that something was wrong_

_The one thing that I had been missing so long_

_Calling you from distant stars_

_And beyond_

 

 

        Maybe it was a mistake, talking to him. But there wasn't one ounce of regret in his body. Just a gentle stillness, settling over him like feathers.

        He knew what was going to happen.

        Even with the daily doses of truth serum, even letting it because constant in his bloodstream, even if he didn't revert back to Kronos solider Marco the whole time, he didn't remember anything about his old self either. Never mind who Jean was. Marco wasn't _his_ Marco yet, but Jean knew it could happen. That was his name Marco had cried out when he woke up.

        It felt... _good_ , in a way. He didn't know what Marco had been through, but he knew it probably was painful. It had to be, from the way he had screamed earlier, all howling and pleading and weeping. “You don't understand, it's the only thing I have! He's the only thing that can stop this! _Please! Please don't do this to me! I'm not a solider, let me go back to him! I'm not one of you!”_

        It was like he went from talking to Jean to talking to whoever made him like this.

        And Jean, not knowing what else to do, had left.

        Levi wouldn't be happy if he knew that Jean had interacted with him against orders, especially if he gave him any information. Jean had to be sure no one would find out about him secretly helping Marco.

        He wasn't going to at first. He was going to watch, do what he was told.

        But then Marco had called out for him.

        “ _Jean!_ ”

        And Jean, feeling truly alive for the first time in five long years, had to answer.

        It had been so long since he heard his name roll off the tongue like that. Like it belonged there. It made Jean shiver, his head reel. He could hear the first time Marco said his name like it was his, like _he_ was his. Midnight, a sleepover, the stars in the window the only ones watching them. A few days after Marco told Jean he was gay, and Jean was jumpy, and he didn't realize why.

        “What's wrong with you Jean?”

        “Nothing.” But all he could think about was what would happen if he and his best friend broke the law in more ways than one. Already, two almost grown men staying over at each other's houses wasn't exactly encouraged. Already, same sexes weren't permitted to have feelings for each other. Already, Jean could feel his heart beating and his cheeks flushing as Marco moved closer to him to study him in the dim light.

        “I know something's up.”

        “You-”

        “Is it about what I said the other day?” His voice turned hard.

        Two days ago, it was around eleven o'clock, it was etched in his mind-

        “Because you can just forget it then, if it's gonna make you like this. I thought you'd understand. But I know I was asking a lot, so you can just-”

        “Wait, no, I _can't_ forget it Marco-”

        “Why, 'cause you can't handle having a best friend who resists-”

        “I can't stop _thinking_ about it-”

        “Then we don't even have to talk anymore if that's how you feel-”

        White hot fear rolled in his stomach, and Jean could hear Marco's tiny jolt of breath as he grabbed his hand and whispered, “I'm not letting you go.”

        Marco's eyes widened. Jean wondered if he had gone too far.

        “ _Jean_ ,”

        His eyes flicking from his lips back up to Jean's gaze.

        Jean squeezing his hand, still deadly serious but recognizing the invitation, recognizing his own need.

        Their first kiss was all open mouths and gasps, falling into each other, not sure when they each fell in love, but knowing that they were now.

        Jean blinked. Back in the headquarters outside the cell.

        How could just a name do that to him, his own name, still in Marco's mind even after everything else had changed. Even when Marco was Kronos', he was still _his_.

        His fingers curled into fists without realizing it.

_I'm going to get him back._

 

        It was typically easier to find Eren then it was Armin. Eren normally screamed wherever he went. Jean listened in the central hallway, waiting as the yellowing fluorescent lights wavered above him. Nothing echoed down the passage, and it was a Tuesday too. He was supposed to be going through Hanji's experiments, even more reasons to scream than usual.

        Jean winced at the thought. He didn't know what went on during Hanji's experiments, but it wasn't fun. Eren normally couldn't bring himself to talk an hour or two later. He bounced back quick, but that was just because he was used to it and also a stubborn bastard.

        He gave it another minute.

        “ _What the hell Armin?!_ ”

        There he was. In the library, it sounded like.

        Jean headed over, searching the stacks. He found them in time to hear the last snippets of their conversation.

        “I'm not saying it's true, it's just a possibility...”

        “Yeah well you can take your possibility and shove it up your-”

        “No shouting in the library, fucker.” Jean grinned, leaning against a stuffed bookshelf.

        Eren rolled his eyes, taking a step away from Armin, who was sitting on one of the ladders, naturally holding onto three books he couldn't have reached on his own. “Who let you in here?”

        “Surprisingly enough, I just walked in. It's amazing what doors can do, right?”

        “Smart ass.”

        “Did you need something, Jean?” Armin asked, casting his gaze at Eren for a moment, warning him not to start arguing right off the bat.

        “I wanted to ask you something.”

        “This is about Marco, isn't it?” Eren narrowed his eyes.

        Gritting his teeth, Jean held back a nastier reply and instead said, “Yes Eren, what else would it be, do you think I want to have a god damn tea party?”

        Armin hopped off the ladder and put his books into Eren's hands, distracting him from snapping at Jean. “Look, I'm doing as much research as I can, but there's only so much I can do. At the end of the day, Erwin is in charge.”

        “There has to be _something_ I can do! Armin, you know-”

        “Yes I do.” the other boy sighed. He suddenly looked very small, and very tired. “Right now, I don't think there's anything you personally can do. I'm not sure what his condition is. But if I were Erwin...”

        There was a loud smack as Eren dropped the books. “Don't say it again Armin, he might hear you.”

        “Eren, please.” Armin winced at the loud noise and the stinging order. “I told you it was only a possibility-”

        “And I won't have it! I can't do it!”

        Sick anxiety started to drip into his stomach, plopping and leaking and making him shudder and want to gag. “What are you talking about?” Jean said, curling his arms around himself, his nails digging into his sides.

        “He thinks Erwin is going to have me dress up as a Kronos solider and see how he reacts. Which is ridiculous. I'm not one of them!”

_But neither is he._

 

        Jean didn't like that possibility any more than Eren did, only for different reasons. If Marco was to see a Kronos solider point in time, who knew what it could to him? Send him into a string of painful flashbacks, bring back his old programming and turn him to Kronos again? What was Erwin thinking?

        It was only a possibility, Armin had insisted. But when was Armin wrong?

        The best idea seemed to be to warn him. Or maybe that was just the fear talking. The truth serum may not be sticking, but there was no doubt that there was progress. He couldn't just stand there and let it unravel.

        Was it desperate? Yes. Was it hasty and rash? Yes. It was like he was a grade schooler trying to stop his crush from asking someone else out.

        But Marco was always so much more than that, since the beginning.

        That quiet reminder pushed him forward. _I'll do what I have to. It's Marco. He'd do the same for me._ And it was absolutely true. Marco had loved him despite everything, true as can be.

        Jean wasn't being selfish. He didn't want Marco back just so he could have his old lover and best friend back. He knew if the Old Marco could see what he was now, he would want Jean to do everything he could to change him back into his true self.

        He kept walking until he reached cell seven.

 

        Naturally, Mikasa was guarding the cell. The one person he didn't want to see right now. They were close; she would ask too many questions.

        She gave him a sympathetic look when she saw him falter. “Sorry Jean, I can't let you in. You know that.”

        “Come on, how do you know that's what I was here for?”

        “You haven't talked to me in days. And who else is here?” She gestured to the empty hallway.

        If it was anyone else, he would have told her off. Instead, he blushed. “Sorry about that. It's been... You know.”

        Mikasa paused, considering him for a moment. “Remember the first time we really talked?”

        Jean blinked. “Of course.” He had been flirting with her for maybe a month after he officially joined the Survey Corps. She didn't give him anything other than stony stares until one night when they were both alone in the kitchens. The conversation probably started with him complimenting her hair.

        “You don't have to pretend to be over him, you know.”

 _What?_ Jean had blinked, and managed to say, “Him who?”

        “Marco Bodt.” she had said simply, still scrubbing the dishes and not looking at him.

        “Marco Bodt?”

        “Yes. You don't have to pretend to be over him.”

        His mouth had turned dry. “I don't know what you're talking about.”

        Then she had turned her gaze to him, withering with annoyance. “Don't play dumb with me Kirstein. You'll just waste both of our time.”

        “I don't know what you're talking about.”

        “Suit yourself.” She had shrugged and put down the last of the dishes.

        She didn't make it halfway to the door when Jean, still frozen by the sink, had asked softly, “Did you know him?”

        “Of course.” There was a pause, and Mikasa had walked back and put a hand on his shoulder. For the first time, her eyes were kind. “You don't have to pretend.”

        Jean had stopped flirting with her after that. He talked to her about Marco. She talked to him about Eren and Armin. Then they just talked about everything. She was the first real friend he made in the Survey Corps.

        “You never did get over him, did you?”

        “...No.”

        A pause. Not a good one, not a bad one. One filled with thought.

        “Is that bad?” Jean finally spoke.

        “No. I understand it, but that doesn't mean you can just walk in there and try to turn him back yourself.”

        “Right,” Jean said half-heartedly, refusing to let him think back to the night before because Mikasa would be able to see it one his face.

        “I don't want Eren to have to go through what Armin was talking about either, but we don't have a say here. And you know, it might even help.”

        “Right...” he said again, a little more doubtful.

        “He's strong Jean. I think he'll be okay.” Mikasa finally smiled. “Now get out of here before someone sees you, the commander himself is in the cell as we speak.”

        On the brink of panic, Jean started to ask, “Wait, what are they-?”

        “I wish I knew.” She waited a moment, glanced into the cell, and said, “I'll tell you what I can gather later.”

        “You're the best Mikasa.”

        “I know.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long time no see! To be honest readers, this chapter has been pretty much done for a while now- but this chapter turned out to be a turning point for the story (or at least the beginning of one), so I had to make some decisions about where the plot is going as a whole. It took a lot of revisions, but I'm happy with the story that's coming to be, and I hope you are too!  
> As always, feel free to talk to me at ihaveapencilbehindmyear on Tumblr! I would love to hear any comments or questions or just anything at all! ^^  
> Oh, and I made a playlist for the fic! If you haven't noticed, all the chapters are named after songs and have lyrics at the beginning of each that has to do with the plot or characters. I've posted all the songs I'm planning on using so far, so consider it a bit of a sneak peek for what's going to come! You can find it here- http://8tracks.com/heartofavalon/we-re-not-soldiers  
> Have a great day guys, thanks for reading!! ^^


	6. King and Lionheart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marco, who still isn't exactly sure why he's here and why everything seems so familiar, is being interrogated. And by someone he's sure he knows...

 

_Howling ghosts they reappear_

_In mountains that are stacked with fear_

_But you're a king and I'm a lionheart_

 

       Drastic measures were almost never ever a good thing. Still, it was a relief to get those chains off of him, even if what he might be walking into was worse. Marco kept rubbing his wrists and flexing his ankles as they went down the hallway, almost in disbelief.

       Like everything else, the new setting was not quite familiar. Almost as if he had dreamed about it.

        _Listen to me Marco. I can make it all stop..._

       Marco tried and failed to mentally bat the voice away. He could see it in his mind's eye, fleeting and shining with cold, cold light, and it was draining all of Marco's energy with every whisper. _All you have to do is trust me. I have answers! Isn't that what you wanted? Why aren't you listening to me Marco, we talked about this._ Soon, Marco could do nothing but drag his feet, trudging forward, towards... well, he didn't know that either. Something was waiting for him there, but something was behind him too. He didn't know what they were or where he was. Which way was he supposed to be going here?

       “Do you recognize this place Marco?”

       Marco blinked. He was walking at a normal pace between the two men who had released him. His head was quiet, for the moment anyway. The hallways were empty and lights that were not cold flickered above him.

       “...I'm not sure. Should I? I mean, you didn't walk me this hallway when I was brought in.” Marco quickly bit his tongue after that- not only was he beginning to ramble, but because he was also still a prisoner. It struck him that he didn't know what he was here for. It was almost hard to remember what had happened before the cell.

        _They're drugging me. I'm a soldier, they captured me... Why? What did I do? What are they planning, can't be good if it's something that needs me all drugged up..._

_You're a soldier of Kronos. You didn't do anything wrong. It's your honor and duty to serve._

       Marco could almost feel his gut twist. There was something wrong wrong wrong about that sentence and he didn't know what. But he was wearing the uniform, and these men were clearly resistance. But there had to be more to this.

       “Don't worry about it then. Here we are.” Erwin said, and the trio came to a stop. Once again, Levi had the key and opened the door. “It's not ideal that we have to restrain you in here too, but hopefully it'll be a lot more comfortable than your, ah, previous arrangement.”

       Levi rolled his eyes at Erwin's political correctness and opened the door. “What he means it you'll have one restraint on your ankle, so you can only move around half the room. Real upgrade, fancy privileged shit."

       “Levi.” Erwin warned, and the shorter man shut his mouth, frowning like there was a sour taste on his tongue.

       “Well, what do you want me to do here?”

       “That'll be fine. Like you said, better than earlier.” Marco said, cutting Levi off from further snarled complaints.

       The frown already strung upon Levi's face twisted, and Erwin smiled kindly. “If all this goes well, hopefully we'll be able to downgrade the restraints at all points.”

       “Ah,” Marco started, shuffling into the cell, trying to take in his new cell while watching both men, “ And can I ask exactly what 'this' is?”

       “Just some interviews,” Erwin said, locking the chain around Marco's ankle.

       Marco sighed as the cold weight settled on his leg, and looked up at Erwin. “You mean interrogations.”

       A barked laugh came from where Levi was standing across the room. “Think whatever you want kid.”

       “Not an interrogation.” said Erwin, unfazed. “Just sit tight. Your supervisor will be in soon.”

 

       As always, in silence, the voices came back.

       They were trying to tell him something about the man that had helped him. The one who made everything seem foolishly brighter. Marco tuned it out by counting tiles underneath him, but somehow that made it feel like everything was sinking in deeper, straight to his subconscious level and sinking in as truth.

 

       The soldier who entered was trying to hide his face. Marco could see it in the way he tossed his hair and swiped at his nose with a clenched fist. He stayed at the doorway for a moment, stalling, as if Marco could just _disappear_ if he willed it hard enough. For a moment, that's exactly what Marco wanted to do- vanish. Something was churning inside of him again, this time, unfamiliar. Not a blaze like with the unnamed man from earlier, but a slow tingling, bouncing from one feeling to the next. Marco wasn't sure what that meant, but the queasiness he was feeling certainly didn't make him eager to find out.

       “Let's get one thing straight- I probably want to be here even less than you do.” He finally said, and, not nearly as composed as an interrogator should be, marched over. Wild blue eyes flicked from him to the opposite wall and back, unable to decide. “Not that it matters to you.”

       Tangled memories seemed to float back to the surface of his mind, the clearest from a few days ago, when he was captured- God, how long had it been? It all felt so far away, like Marco didn't exist before the drugs and the chains. Three guards, emotional guards, familiar now but names and stories so far away. “You're the one who punched me in the nose,” Marco finally said with some degree of certainty.

       “Oh, so you remember that, huh? Guess you'll also remember you threatening to kill me.”

       “Eren.”

       He had been lounged on the chair opposite him, about to kick his legs back, overconfident and superior, still looking away though, but Marco could hear the hitch of his breath when he said his name. “How do you know that.” It wasn't a question, per say. Marco wasn't sure what it was, but Eren's shoulders tensed and the fidgeting of his fingers grew still.

       “Ah, the woman that you were with said it. Back then, I mean.”

       “Yeah yeah, of course that was it...” He sighed, rubbing his eyes. “Right.”

       Gingerly, Marco touched his nose, the sting of the injury returning. His head was swimming. Eren was sitting in front of him, suddenly looking weary, but the sounds of that earlier skirmish rang in his ears. He could feel the cold curl of the gun in his hand.

       “What else do you remember?”

       “Why does everyone keep asking me what I remember?”

       “I'll ask the questions here.” Eren's voice turned gruff. “Now tell me, what else do you remember?”

       “I don't know what you mean, what am I supposed to remember?” Marco could feel himself begin to shrink back, eyes widening. The question wasn't supposed to be a threat, Eren put up a tough front but it was a little early in the interrogation for that, but the weight of everyone's questions was hitting him now.

       “What else do you remember?”

       “Do you recognize this place Marco?”

       “Don't you remember?”

       Marco struggled to get his breathing under control. “I don't-”

       “Forget I asked. Then tell me- what were you doing here? Why would a soldier of Kronos come to our rebel scum base? Gonna turn spy for them, was that the plan all along?” Eren spat, now openly glaring at him.

       “I-” It was so hard to remember. His thoughts were so frayed. The more he thought back on it, the more Marco felt unfamiliar with his own body, his surroundings, because the more he thought back to being there, the more he felt like someone else, and the voices were beginning to chant, to shout. To summon that evil that was somewhere inside of him.

       “Answer me!”

 

       “I- I was disobeying orders, I was- was- was-”

       “I will not give anything up to the likes of you!”

       “Why was I there? Why am I HERE?”

 

       Which one of those lines of dialogue actually managed to crawl it's way out of his mouth?

 

       Eren raised an eyebrow. “Disobeying orders?”

       He clamped his mouth shut again. _I did not follow ***** ********, ****** *****, and ******* ****** to the resistance headquarters._

_Why can't I remember their names now? I was... I was following them, right? I was-_

       “I.... was....” The words seemed to wrestle against him. Maybe it was the drugs in his system, maybe it was whatever poison that was in his mind leaking out, maybe it was that he didn't truly know. Why was he disobeying orders? Why was everything so far away? “told not to go to the rebel base.”

       “Can't imagine why.”

       Mentally, Marco tried to push his way through the static to get to whoever was still in his head. Would knowing who they were help? They didn't have the same warmth that the mysterious memory of the man was shrouded in. No, but they felt cold. Solid. Like it would provide some kind of clue- It's easier to just forget. Someone whispered, and Marco felt himself knocked off his feet. “...no, I can't.”

       “Why disobey? Or do you forget that too?”

       “I, ah, can't say for sure.”

       Names, names, two, no no, three...? Yeah, that was probably right, he could tell because there was shooting pain in his head when he thought it.

       “Isn’t that convenient?”

       “I’m trying here! But it’s like, something’s blocking me.”

       “Blocking you?”

       “Yeah, like the reason why I can’t remember you even though I know I’ve seen you somewhere before.” Marco said bitterly.

       “I punched you in the nose, remember?”

       “No, before that. It’s just a feeling I get. You might be in my nightmares. You and everyone else in this fucking place.”

       He was saying too much, and he knew it, but- he wasn’t sure if the kindness of the man- _his name, his name, what was his name?/He works against you to take down everything you stand for._ \- was wearing him down, or if it was just the heaviness of everything, how loud it was and how he was just so small. If this was torture, they were breaking him. Quickly. Marco wasn’t sure if it was just because he was always weak, or if there was something someone did to make him this way.

       “Nightmares, huh? Why don’t you tell me about them?”

       “Why do you care?”

       Eren snorted. “Who said I did? I’m just here to get some answers out of you. And if I ask about your nightmares, I’m going to hear about your nightmares? Understood?”

       “...I never know where I am, but it’s always the same place. I’m strapped down, probably to a table or something, and there’s cold metal against my back.” Marco closed his eyes, to help him remember the sensations, and Eren didn’t say a word. “Something is covering my head, no, just my the top of my head and my eyes, but sometimes I can see something through the crack underneath. Someone is here. He’s watching me, saying stuff, but I can’t seem to make out what he’s talking about. But sometimes, it feels like, it’s sticking in my brain somewhere and I just can’t get to it.”

       Marco was quiet for a minute. He could hear footsteps, and he wasn’t sure if Eren was now pacing or if it was just another memory come to life.

       “And then what happens?”

       “It’s different each time.”

       “So tell me what happened last night then.”

       “It’s hard to explain.”

       “Walk me through it.”

       “There’s different people fl- you were there. I’m sure of it now.”

       Eren blinked, and his blue eyes were suddenly too too familiar. “That so?” he said, faking causal, but Marco can see through him now, like he’s known him for years. That’s how it feels when you can recognize each twitch of a jaw, every subtle curl in the lips. It’s not a fire like that man- _this is the face of your real enemy/But I think I knew him too,_ \- had ignited inside of him. It was cold, cruel, something Marco knew he shouldn’t be knowing and he could feel something inside him twist, trying to recover, and Marco couldn’t help but wonder what else he had forgot, what more there was still to know, because all he could think was His name is Eren and I knew him, under all this fear is something like loyalty, I think I saw him on the battlefield but he couldn’t understand which side they were on, if it was the same side. He saw Eren’s face covered with blood and his shout was ringing in his ears, and Marco tried to hang onto the memory as something inside his head painted a different image- charging at Eren, clanging his sword against impenetrable flesh- “Marco, focus-”

       “Eren goddamn Yeager, why do I know your name?”

       The silence crawled along his skin, threatening to burrow into him and make it’s home there, so he’d never be able to say the name ever again.

       Something in his blue eyes was breaking, then stitched itself up again, like how a real soldier would. “You know my name because I’m a Titan. I was made for Kronos and I defied him and ran to join the rebel scum.”

       Marco went to speak, only to find that his mouth was locked shut.

 

       He didn’t know what happened next. He could feel himself sitting there, and he could hear the rush of blood in his ears, but he knew it wasn’t real. He knew someone else was doing the talking, and when he woke, his ankle was rubbed raw from pulling against the chains, and Eren was pointing his gun at him. His mouth was dry.

       Slowly, Eren lowered the gun. “I can tell it’s you again Marco.”

       “...”

       But what did it mean to be Marco?

       “Marco-”

       “What did I say?”

       Eren was grinning, bitter and desperate, and he said, “You swore to kill me for betraying the King, and you were going to personally drag me back so I can answer for my crimes. You called me the Rogue Titan. I think it has a nice ring to it.”

       “That explains why you recovered from the stun gun so quick, that first day.” Marco said, numbly.

       The boy in front of him, someone he suddenly knew but couldn’t remember, was a Titan, the personal super-soldiers of Kronos himself, and the thought of it almost made him split in two again. “Eren.” he said, because he didn’t know what else to say, “Eren, I know you. You gotta tell me what’s happening to me.” It was the same hope that came with the man, but this time, Marco could be sure- he knew him. Eren knew him and he was sure of it. He had to help-

       Everything about him froze, and Marco got chills from the resolve in his gaze. “Fuck. I can’t do this.”

       “What? What are you talking about-”

       “No.” Eren’s eyes blazed, and he turned his gaze to the cameras in the room. “Fucking, I’m not going to do this. You hear that bitches?! I’m out!”

       “Eren, wait-”

       “I’m out!”

 

       They- Marco didn’t know who they was anymore, because with Eren and the memories of him sliding away it all seemed pointless to keep track of these people he may or may not know- lied. They carefully suggested that Marco knew Eren from his Titan days, and Marco was afraid it would cement itself as the truth in his head, among the buzzing of the voices he wasn’t sure if he could trust or not.

       He had the old bandages from his broken nose, and there was dirt covering his cell. As if it would somehow save his sanity, letter by letter, he wrote down what he knew before someone could take it away from him or change it-

        _1. My name is Marco Bodt._

_2\. I was in Kronos’ army, and now I’m in a rebel base._

_3\. I knew a rebel named Eren Yeager._

_4\. I can trust the man, even if I don’t know his name._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello there readers! Thanks for still being with me after the long breaks in between chapters. Life is crazy and doesn't want you to have a regular updating schedule, but we'll make do, yeah?
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this new chapter! It's not a very jeanmarco-centered chapter, but the relationship between Marco and Eren is just going to get more important as we go through. And trust me, there's a lot more of your two favorite boys coming...
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! As always, come and chat with me on Tumblr (ihaveapencilbehindmyear)! It's been a while, so let's catch up! <3


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